A Key in the Graveyard
by intata
Summary: "Max? I don't know much about him, but he's done more for the Light than all of us combined. I'm still not exactly sure what his goal is, or what drives him, but he'll stop at nothing to beat back the Darkness... and the Light too, if it comes to it. He's done it before, after all." [M for violence and language. Takes place during events of Kingdom Hearts X, into the main games.]


**A/N**

 **Overarching Disclaimer:**

I do not own Kingdom Hearts. All rights for everything belong to Square, Disney and probably a few others, I just broke into their backyard and started playing in their collective sandbox. If they come home and see the crappy sandcastle I made, and want to claim it as their own, I will not put up a fight. Take it, damn you, take it!

 **Story Overview & Brief Explanation:**

This is a Kingdom Hearts story from the perspective of a Keyblade wielder that fought in the Keyblade War. In other words, this is not a happy-go-lucky story. Sure, there will be some parts that make you feel all warm and fuzzy - like the games would - but there will be times that aren't so uplifting as well. This will _probably_ not take place during the events of the main game series - being centered around the events of _Kingdom Hearts X Unchained_ , which happened in a time known as the Age of Fairytales (that's canon). In other words, it takes place a _long_ time before Sora was born. As of writing this fic, there has been nothing officially posted that claims the exact timeline, so I am placing the events of _KHXUnchained_ roughly one thousand years prior to the first game.

 _Which is not too far out of line._ Look at all the info learned about the war in _KH BBS_ : BaldEvilGuy's whole shtick is to figure out what the fuck happened back then by opening Kingdom Hearts and all that hoop-lah. Basically, there used to be at _least_ thirty Dandelions - the Keyblade wielders that were meant to rebuild after the war. They did that. Then time passed and they had apprentices, they died, their apprentices died. Everybody died. Old age is a bitch. Until only Eraqus and EvilBaldGuy were left to keep balance. And Yen-sid… sort of.

So that's the history lesson. This story takes place a _long-ass_ time before the events of the first game.

There is a possibility that I will carry the events of this fic into the events of the games, and I will try to keep everything as plausible as possible according to the stipulations of canon KH. This means I have done tons of research, and will continue to do so. Which means that if you see something that is wrong, please let me know so that I can rectify it.

Keep in mind that this is rated 'M' for a reason, and that reason is **not** lemons, limes, or other forms of citrus. I'm writing about _kids, and early teenagers_. No sex. (Yes, some of them might die, but I have moral standards… Sort of.)

This is not my first story on this site, however I am still new at this whole ' _writing stories_ ' thing, so let me know if I mess up with anything and I'll see what I can do to fix it up.

 **Story Begins Here:**

Enjoy.

* * *

"We're almost there, Remi. Almost there."

Dried tears marred his sister's eyes as she looked up at him.

"Yeah." She said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked, focusing on the clock-like castle on the horizon.

"You've had to carry me for so long…"

He laughed. "You're not exactly heavy, sis."

"Still." She frowned. "You were hurt too, Max."

"Not as bad as you." He squeezed his arms around her a little tighter. "You nearly lost your leg to that thing." It was true. The shadow creature that bit her nearly tore it off, but a potion from the pouch of a dead Wielder was enough to minimize the damage.

She grunted and snuggled a little closer, taking comfort in her older brother's arms.

They continued like that for a while, much like they had been for the past month or so.

It had been a month.

Max nearly started crying again at the thought, but blinked a few times to hold it in. Tears wouldn't help now.

A month ago, his life was perfect. A month ago, his parents had been alive. A month ago, he had a home.

Now, he was battered and broken, limping his way towards possible safety. Note the word 'possible', as even that might have been a lie - told to two desperate children just to get them to do what he wanted.

Still, they had hope, and they would continue for as long as they had it.

As the siblings approached the sprawling town, Max couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to what had spurred them on this journey.

* * *

"Max! Remi! Wake up! You're going to be late!" A feminine voice sounded out from somewhere in the house.

Max's eyes shot open and darted to the alarm clock on his desk.

Nine thirty-seven.

It was _supposed_ to go off a half hour ago.

"Shit." He said, throwing off his covers and tumbling out of bed.

"'Mm up!" His sister's mumbled voice carried sleepily from across the hall.

"Max!" His mom called.

"Yeah!" He answered, banging around on the floor a bit to emphasize the fact that he was up.

He nearly ripped his shirt in half trying to get it on, then started on pants.

 _Where are my pants?!_

He tore into a nearby pile of clean clothes that he hadn't bothered to put away. His mom would be irate at that, but he'd deal with it once he had pants on.

Getting yelled at by your mom while you're only wearing underwear can be a little embarrassing.

 _There!_

Finding the right pair, he pulled them on, found a clean pair of socks, and bolted down the stairs, nearly knocking over Remi on her way to the bathroom. She wore a pink onesie with bunny slippers, and her long, brown hair was a mangled mess, obscuring her face.

She kind of looked like a cute version of a horror movie monster.

"Morning." She said, though it sounded more like 'Mehnin' in that she was still mostly asleep.

"Hurry up." He answered, taking the stairs two at a time.

She just grunted in response.

"Hey Mom. Food. Need to go. Morning Dad."

His dad just grunted at him around a steaming cup of coffee.

They only had one morning person in the house, and that was his mom, who was humming at the stove, seemingly a little pissed off at one of the burners.

"Yeah, yeah. Pancakes are on the table. We'll meet you down there in a half hour." She said, not looking up from the burner.

Before she even finished talking, he had a pancake in his mouth and was hugging her.

"Fanks! Fye!" He said around the food in his mouth, grabbed his bag, and ran out the front door.

"Good luck!" She called out behind him.

Today was the finals of the summer tournament.

 _The_ summer tournament.

And Max was _late._

"I'm late. I'm _late!"_ He yelled, careening down the street.

"Got a date, Max?" A voice called out behind him.

He looked back to see a balding man wearing an apron come out of the bakery.

"A _very_ important date, Mr. Gemuchi!" He called back.

Laughter was all that answered him as he turned yet another corner.

"Max? You're late!"

"I know!" Max yelled without even looking to see who that was.

He kept running, barreling through the town as seemingly everyone stopped what they were doing to scold him on his ability to keep track of time.

Granted that wasn't _really_ true, as most of the town was _at the goddamn tournament, and he wasn't._ Everyone he ran into on his way there simply had jobs that took precedence over fun.

He wasn't looking forward to _that_ part of his life.

Max finally rounded the last corner just as the announcer was finishing his speech.

"-But enough of that! I know what you're all here for! Welcome to Twilight Town's fourteenth annual tournament! LET'S! STRUGGLE!" He threw his arms up in the air as everyone cheered their hearts out.

Max's eyes searched the crowd until he found who he was looking for and made a bee-line for him.

"MAX! There you are! What took you so long?" A boy with jet black hair, wearing white pants and an orange hoodie flailed his arms at Max's arrival.

"Overslept, listen-"

"OVERSLEPT?! How the _fuck_ can you overslee-" A hand reached down and slapped the boy upside the head.

"Language, Jim." Jim's dad glared down at his son.

"Sorry." He said, abashed, but then turned to Max with an incredulous rage in his eyes. "Overslept?! Seriously?!"

"Jim! I know, shut up! Now hold my bag, I gotta get up there."

He grumbled but held out his hand for his bag.

Max smiled at him. "Thanks bud."

He grunted and Max turned around and bolted for the stage.

"And just wher- Ah! There he is!" The announcer - a rather plump man in a yellow shirt and overalls - began, putting his hand on Max's shoulder as he stepped up to him. "Now that everyone's here, let's draw the lots!"

There were eight people in the finals, and Max - being fourteen - was one of the youngest. Granted the age range was only from twelve to sixteen, there being only one twelve-year-old, two at thirteen, Max being the only one at fourteen, and the rest were fifteen and sixteen.

An age gap like that didn't mean much, so Max didn't find himself to be at too much of a disadvantage, and didn't dare to think himself above those younger than him.

That couldn't be said for all of his opponents, though.

"Well, well. Little Maxie decided to show up?"

Max turned around to see one of the rather well built sixteen-year-olds. He had light blond, spiky hair that was held back in a bandana, a high collared, green vest, and jeans.

"Hey Sally. How's it going?" Max said, deadpan.

One of the other contestants laughed, but cut it short when blondie turned a glare at him.

He looked back at Max. "It's Sean, punk. Learn it before I beat it into you."

Max hummed back at him, looking unimpressed. "Sure thing, Samantha."

Full on laughter from the peanut gallery now, and another glare wasn't enough to shut it up.

Sean was the definition of a schoolyard bully, or at least he _tried_ to be. The kid made every effort to be as intimidating as possible. He was covered in muscles - at least as much as a kid at sixteen could have - and could be regularly found lifting weights at the school weightroom. He was intimidating to most every kid his age or lower, with the exception of a few - Max being one of them.

Max was a very physical teenager; meaning that he excelled in sports, and other physically intensive recreational activities. He wasn't the most well built, hardest working, or even most talented kid on the block, but he made a name for himself for being _effective._ And _that,_ in-and-of itself, is what Max believed brought him to Sean's attention.

Sean wanted to be the best - or, if you asked Max's mother, he wanted to be recognized. He wanted attention. Popularity. Etcetera.

To Max, it was frankly disgusting, and Sean could seemingly _sense_ that disdain.

"You're dead now, Maxie. You better hope we don't get paired in the-"

"Sean!" The announcer called. "You're up!"

The older boy gave one last glare in Max's direction before turning around and walking toward the lot box.

A few seconds later, Max was picking his own number out of the box.

Two.

He grinned. It seemed like he would be up first.

The announcer didn't even bother to check their numbers. "Now that we've all drawn, would numbers one and two please step up, and don't forget to grab yourselves a bat and belt before we begin."

Max barely stopped himself from skipping over to the weapons rack that held a bunch of padded blue bats, and belts holding red and blue orbs. There were three types of bats, one that was just a stick with a padded blue shaft, another that was the same, but heavier and had a hand guard, and the third that was more of a mace than bat - in that it had a big blue star at the end of it.

Obviously he picked one of the basic ones. The other two just seemed clunky and useless in a Struggle match, though he did feel a weird tug towards the star-tipped bat.

He then reached down to pick up a belt. The one he chose had about ten blue balls stuck to it. The whole goal of the match was to knock these balls off of his opponent, and collect them into the blank spots of his own belt.

Making sure the balls were all secure, he strapped the belt to his waist, hefted his bat, and made his way towards the center of the stage.

Once there, Max got a good look at his opponent.

She stood there, leaning on her bat, just grinning at him. She had long blond hair, freckles, and was wearing a tight-fitting, grey hoodie, blue pants, and fingerless gloves.

If Max remembered correctly, her name was Maria.

"Now remember, the goal is to collect the orbs off of your opponent's belt. I want a clean match." He gave the two teenagers a look. "Contestants ready?!"

They each gave a nod.

"LETS! STRU~UGGLE~E!"

Max watched the announcer waddle off of the stage, then got into a ready position.

The girl across from him did the same.

They stared at eachother for all of three seconds, then, by some unknown cue, they charged forward.

Max threw the first swing, knowing that it wouldn't connect. A downward, diagonal strike that she simply leaned away from. Max spun through with the force of the blow, doing a complete three-sixty and meeting her counterattack with the force of the spin.

Their clubs met, and Maria's nearly flew out of her hands, but she held on.

She pushed back against Max, making him lose the little footing that he had from that last attack, and sending him stumbling. She swung down at him, but Max rolled away and dug his feet into the ground, giving him enough leverage to jump back and land a side-swipe on her waist.

She stumbled backwards at the hit, and Max didn't let up. He quickly brought his club back around to land another hit on her shoulder before she blocked a third swipe and jumped back a couple feet.

Max reached down and plucked two red orbs from the ground, both of which fell off with the first hit.

Maria frowned and shook her shoulder, getting back into a ready stance.

They _did_ only have two minutes.

She charged at him and he deflected her bat to the side. The next bout was more conservative, with less fancy moves, and more blade-locks, parries, and the odd jingling of an orb getting knocked off of someone's belt.

Soon enough, two minutes passed and the announcer called them off.

Max looked down at his belt, not having paid too much attention to it during the match besides when he collected orbs that had fallen off of Maria or himself.

There were only four of his original blue orbs, but seven of Maria's red orbs. Meaning he had eleven out of twenty total. Max couldn't help but grin.

He'd won.

The crowd erupted.

Max blinked, just then realizing how _many_ people had been watching the match. There were _hundreds_ of people lined up against the stage, and reaching out into the surrounding lot. There were bleachers filled with cheering families, some buying snacks from vendors that walked the isles. Children screamed and waved at him in admiration, while some fathers looked down at their own sons in odd pangs of comparative disappointment before wiping the expression off their faces.

Max's own family would be arriving soon to get in on the fun. The majority of the household not being morning people basically meant that they would miss the first round or two. Max had long since come to terms with that.

Hell, he'd missed a fair share of his sister's matches because of that. It wouldn't be fair for him to hold them to a standard that he wasn't willing to accept.

Max was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them.

In the meantime, he waltzed off the stage to go and re-join Jim in the crowd.

"That was awesome!" Jim exclaimed when Max found him.

Max got his first good look at Jim, then. Being in a such a hurry during their first interaction basically meant that he wasn't paying much attention.

Jim was a scraggly character. He had unkempt blond hair, held back by a pair of sunglasses, blue eyes that sparked with mischief, and a perpetual, lopsided grin that made him seem slightly mad. He wore an orange T-shirt, with a puffy, unzipped, green vest overtop, and cargo shorts.

Max grinned, taking his bag back and grabbed a bottle of water out of it. "Thanks. Maria was pretty good." He took a sip of water, and splashed a bit over his head to cool down.

Jim scrunched his eyebrows together. "Dude, her name's Mary."

Max blinked. "Ahh, really? Damn it."

Jim laughed. "Come on, man. I know you're bad with names, but-"

"I am not!" Max interrupted, lightly punching Jim's shoulder. "I only met her a few days ago in the preliminaries. I talked to her _once_!"

Jim just continued laughing, and looked at him mockingly. "That right?"

Max huffed and turned back to the stage as the next two contestants took to it. Two of the older kids, both pretty tall and lean. One had black hair, the other blond. Based on body type and age, this was probably going to be a good match.

It wasn't.

The black haired kid completely _owned_ the blond. Blondie couldn't even _begin_ to retaliate against the utter onslaught.

"Holy shit!" Jim whispered.

"I know, right? That was a wicked hit-"

"No!" Jim said, cutting Max off. "Not the match. Look over there!" He pointed over to the left of the stage at a group of five hooded figures.

Max studied them for a couple seconds. "They're kind of creepy. What about them?"

"Creep-" Jim's head spun around so quickly, Max thought it might pop off. "Those are _Wielders!"_

Max blinked before his brain caught up with what his friend just said. "What?!"

"Shhh!" Jim hushed, pulling him away from the few people who glanced down at them.

"Wielders? How can you tell?" Max asked.

"Can't you see the badge holding their cloaks together?" Jim whispered.

Max looked a bit closer and did indeed recognize the badge. "Holy shit."

"That's what _I_ said." Jim grinned.

"What do you think they're doing here?" Max whispered. "Are they expecting trouble?"

Jim blinked. "The tournament, maybe? Recruitment?"

Max turned to look at Jim. "Really? _Here?"_

"Well Struggle was started fourteen years ago by the Wielders, right?"

"Yeah, but… OK, you might be right." Max conceded. "At least I _hope_ you're right."

Jim elbowed him. "That means you _gotta_ win this thing. If my best friend becomes a _Wielder,_ I'll have bragging rights _forever!"_

Max chuckled nervously. That's a lot more pressure than he was expecting coming into this.

Two more matches came and went before it was Max's turn again. Neither of those matches were worth mentioning past the fact that Sean lost against the sole twelve-year-old in the tournament. Either underestimating his opponent, or overestimating himself, Max couldn't really tell.

Jim couldn't stop himself from laughing at his expense, but Max just sighed.

Max's opponent for the second round was the black haired boy that trounced the blond in the second match.

He was excited, to say the least. Taking his position with club in hand, and belt on waist, he waited.

"Begin!" The announcer shouted.

The black haired, older boy peered curiously at Max. He knew that Max was a decent fighter from his last match- unlike his previous opponent, so he would take to this bout with more caution. He too spotted the Wielders that watched over the matches, and wanted to impress them.

Max, on the other hand, completely forgot about the Wielders. All of his focus was on the older boy's club that rested on his shoulder.

Max would let the older boy have the first move, giving him the first chance for a counterattack. If done smoothly, he might collect the first orb of the match.

It didn't go how he wanted.

The black haired teen did, indeed, take the opening move, however he turned it into a nearly consistent stream of side-swipes, jabs, and cuts, barely giving Max enough time to think between blocks and parries.

True, there wasn't much power between all of those shots, because they were happening so quickly, but even the slightest tap on his midsection could loose an orb from his belt. Even if he was hit on other areas of his body, he would probably get knocked over at some point through the accrued damage, knocking loose at least half of his total orbs against the ground.

 _There!_ Max thought, recognizing a swing with more power than the others. He quickly dodged instead of blocking, allowing his opponent to overextend himself and give Max a completely open shot at his belt.

However it wasn't meant to be.

It was a feint.

As Max was trying for a counterattack, the older boy moved inside his guard and straight up _grabbed_ an orb off of Max's belt before ducking under Max's strike and backing away.

Max wasn't done with him yet, though. He had finally gotten an opening, and he was going to take it.

It was insulting. Pure and simple, what the older boy had done. He didn't even land a hit; just directly stealing an orb.

It was infuriating, and Max wasn't going to let it stand.

The older boy was expecting a lull, for whatever reason. However Max was having none of that. The younger of the two charged forward almost immediately, locking clubs with the older and putting him on his back foot. He then stepped past him into a spin-dodge, bringing his club back around behind the older boy like a whip.

The hit landed easily, knocking a single orb off of the black haired boy's belt, but Max ignored it in favor of continuing his assault.

Stumbling slightly from the last hit, the older boy couldn't regain his footing in time to counter a full assault from behind him.

Blow after blow descended on the older boy until he managed to jump forward and get away. However, by then a good three further orbs had been hit loose.

Max continued to ignore them, charging forward.

They met again, this time more even as the older boy's bruises prevented him from moving as quickly.

Max was so focused on the match that he had completely forgotten about the orbs that littered the ground - both his and the older boy's. The fight had continued much like his previous battle with Mary, as the older boy seemed to tire quickly despite his effectiveness in the beginning.

Then the announcer called time.

Max blinked and looked down at his belt. There wasn't a damn orb on it.

His gaze shifted to his opponent's to find a similar sight.

Both of the contestants had been so engrossed in the fight that neither had bothered to pay any attention to the orbs on the floor of the stage.

But then his opponent grinned and held out his non-club hand to reveal a blue orb in his palm.

"Son of a bitch- OW!" He heard Jim say from the silent crowd. No doubt his father had smacked him again.

Max thought back, and realized that the older boy hadn't ever placed the orb on his belt after he plucked it off of his own. Max never gave him a chance.

"And the winner _is,_ Greggary!" The announcer screamed, throwing his hands into the air, opening the floodgates of cheering.

Max ambled his way off the stage, dropping his club and belt off at the racks before making his way over to Jim, only to find him not alone.

"That was a good match, Max." His father said with a sad smile.

"Thanks, dad." He responded. "When did you guys get here?"

"A couple seconds after you got on stage." His mom said, bringing him into a hug.

"We found Jim halfway through the match." Remi added.

Max nodded, and turned to watch the next match.

The twelve-year-old, and last remaining fifteen-year-old were getting into position.

The fight kicked off at the announcer's call, but Max could barely pay attention; his focus was mostly inward, analyzing his last match.

Before he knew it, the announcer was calling the fifteen-year-old the winner, and giving the contestants a half hour intermission before the start of the last match.

"Max, Remi." Max's dad began. "Want something from the stands? I'm getting a little hungry."

Max's mom huffed. "You should have eaten something at the house. If I remember correctly, I made pancakes."

"Sweetie, you know that I love you, right?"

His mom just raised an eyebrow.

"Well sometimes pancakes just aren't enough-"

"Blasphemy!" Jim called out.

Max's dad continued, unhindered, shaking his head. "They simply won't satisfy the craving-" He brought his hand over his heart in a dramatic swing. "Nay, not craving; They won't satisfy the _need_ a man can find himself with. A primal desire that seeps into his very _bones._ A pure and simple _yearning_ for a crappy hotdog!"

"Amen!" Remi threw her fists in the air.

"We have a taker!" Max's father yelled out and pointed at his sister. "Any others? Going once, twice, thrice? SOLD to the pretty little lady! Two orders of crappy show-food coming up!" His pointing finger did a swirl and shot up into the air, and in the next second he was gone, running off to find a food stand.

Jim, Remi, and Max were all openly laughing, while Max's mother, and Jim's father were smiling with clear amusement in their eyes.

Max's father was easily one of the most interesting people he knew. He was a total dead-weight in the morning until the coffee seeped into his bloodstream, but after that, he was a totally functional adult that had a surprising flair for dramatics. _Somehow,_ he managed to never annoy anyone with it.

The next half hour crawled by as everyone counted down the seconds until the final match.

Thinking back, Max supposed it had been a good thing that the coming catastrophe happened right before the final match, instead of during. The crowd was more spread out, and could move more easily.

Not that it helped, but it prevented most people from getting trampled.

To the residents of Twilight Town, time of day was something only seen on the face of a clock. There was no night. No true day. The sun never moved from the horizon, sinking the world into a beautifully constant, orange glow.

So it could be said that they were all surprised when the light started to fade. The sky above began to darken to the point where people thought a storm might be rolling in - which to be fair, they were right, but it wasn't what they were thinking.

Purpleish-blue lightning buzzed around billowing black clouds. The shadows of buildings and people seemed to grow in all directions.

Then people started screaming.

The clouds started to drip large blobs of what looked to be pure blackness. Max would admit that it was interesting to look at, as it seemed to be a total void in his vision. He couldn't make out any shape or silhouette.

The blobs hit the ground, splashing into something that had no form, or tangible figure. Some directly hit people, coating them in the non-substance. Their animated silhouettes were all that could be seen, vaguely flailing their arms, or clutching their throats as if the oxygen supply had been cut off. Their feet, stuck as if in quicksand - and like quicksand, their forms slowly sunk downwards into the black abyss.

As the silhouettes of tortured souls descended into the blackness, others began to rise from the shadows, however these newcomers were monstrous - some in height, all in form.

Some walked, some crawled on all fours, and all seemed to be made out of the same inky blackness that swallowed the crowd, but with one key difference: their beady, luminous, yellow eyes.

"Run!" A voice called next to Max.

His father grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the edge of town.

After a couple strides he let go, allowing Max to run for himself so he could carry Remi. His mom, Jim, and Jim's dad all close behind.

They nearly made it out of the clearing before he heard an ear-shattering scream.

He turned around just in time to see a glob encompass his mother, his best friend, and his best friend's dad.

"Cara!" His dad screamed, putting Remi down and running back to the three sinking silhouettes.

His mom had been on the edge of the blob, so the blackness didn't totally cover her, however all that was left in the light was an arm, which Max's dad quickly grabbed onto and tried to pull her free.

Max's attention switched over to the form of his best friend, now sunk to his knees, shaking, and clutching his throat.

He was suffocating.

They were all suffocating.

He watched, horror-stricken and helpless, as the form of his friend went limp, still partly standing in the sinking blackness.

"Max." His father said, oddly calm. "Take Remi and run."

Max turned to his father, his dad, and noticed the blackness had spread across his limp mother's form and now covered his father's hands.

Max shook his head mutely. Tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Max. Come on. I can't let go." He looked down at the form of his wife. "Not sure I would if I could. Take your sister and get out of here."

Max stood there for a full two seconds before he nodded, jumped over to hug his father, and jumped back, then turned to grab Remi by the arm and pulled her towards the edge of town.

"I love you both." Was the last thing he heard from his father over his sister's muffled screams.

They ran and ran, and when they couldn't take another step, Max picked up his sister, and ran some more.

Vaguely, out of the corner of his eye, he could make out bright flashes of light amid the growing darkness.

He didn't know what was causing it, and didn't really care, having only one thought in his mind: escape.

A thought whose action was halted mid-step by a towering behemoth of blackness. A cookie-cutter shape of a heart carved out of its midsection, and flowing tendrils of blackness that seemed to take the form of hair.

Its hand formed a fist and shot out at Max and Remi, however it never landed. A set of hands rested themselves on the sibling's shoulders, and the next thing Max knew, he was fifty feet behind the behemoth.

The cloaked figure patted him on the shoulder before walking right past him and jumping high into the air in the direction of the monster.

The Wielders.

They were still there, and helping with the escape.

Max squashed the little bit of hope that budded in his heart. No time for that. He had to get them out of there.

Quickly turning away, he was about to pick Remi back up and bolt for the tree-line, but one of the smaller creatures had apparently snuck up on them.

Remi screamed bloody murder as the creature latched onto her leg, biting down into flesh, and dying the surrounding grass red.

Max froze for all of a millisecond before spotting, and grabbing a decent sized stick and beating the thing off of his sister's leg.

Or at least that's what he tried to do.

The stick soared right through the creature. A small ripple of blackness was the only evidence that he'd swung at all.

He swung again.

And again.

It wasn't working, however he did succeed in getting the thing's attention.

It released Remi's leg and dove at him, sinking its claws into Max's arm when he brought it up to block.

More blood splattered, but through the pain, it gave Max an idea.

He dropped the stick, and punched it.

Surprisingly, it connected.

The yellow-eyed creature buckled around his punch, bounced a couple times on the ground, but seemed to get up and shake itself off no worse for wear.

But then there was a flash of light, and the living shadow burst into a mist of darkness, letting a small, pink heart float up and fade out of existence.

"Get out of here." A different hooded figure from before said. This one covered in scratches, dirt, grime, and his own blood. He glanced down at the siblings before jumping back into the fray.

Max needed no other cue before doing what he meant to in the first place; he picked up his sister and ran for the treeline.

It took him about five full minutes to get there, at which point he realized that nothing was chasing them anymore.

He turned around and gaped at the sight.

A creature much like the behemoth from earlier stood by the Struggle stage, however it was easily ten times larger.

Two of the hooded figures floated around it, causing various explosions along its body.

The ungodly creature reached up with a palm and brought it down with a speed that didn't make sense for a being so large, smacking one of the floating Wielders straight into the ground.

The sickening crunch of their bones could be heard over the impact with the ground.

Then the monster moved again. This time slapping the other figure out of the air towards the tree-line.

He bounced.

Once.

Then tore through the brush, leaving a two foot deep crater a hundred feet into the woods.

Max didn't even think. He picked his sister back up, being mindful of her injured leg, and ran towards the crater.

As he got near it, he could hear a slight coughing.

The Wielder was still alive.

He kept running until he was right next to the broken and bloody body.

The hood and cloak were in tatters, showing the Wielder's blood and grime covered face. What used to be blond hair, now dyed brown with dirt and dried blood.

"Kid." The Wielder coughed, spitting up a little blood. "Max, right?"

Max nodded, not entirely sure how this guy could talk in his condition, let alone recognize him on sight.

"Do you want to be a Wielder?"

Max blinked. He wasn't sure where that question came from, but the immediate answer was "Hell yes," which he now had to hesitate to give because of what he saw that day.

Twilight Town had been overrun. Darkness itself had invaded, and five _mere mortals_ fought tooth and nail to save him and his sister, if not the town, and ultimately died for it.

Well, he supposed the others died.

Max ignored his question for now. "What happened to the other three of you?"

The Wielder coughed in what sounded like a broken, defeated chuckle. "That monster of a Darkside happened."

Well.

Max thought for a second. "Do you regret-"

The Wielder cut him off with a shit-eating grin. "Not in the least."

That grin spoke volumes. There were only two solid teeth in his mouth, but the sheer happiness that he associated with the Wielders couldn't be denied.

Max nodded. "Then yeah. Yeah I do."

The broken man gave a slight tilt to his head, probably because it hurt too much to nod.

"Good. Here, take my Chirithy." His hand twitched, and a small, cute, cat-like creature poofed into existence on his open, mangled palm. "Take it back to Daybreak Town so it can report on what happened here. I'm sure they'll take you through the Awakening once you get there." He coughed and Max heard a small snapping sound come from the Wielder's chest. "Chirithy has a record of your Struggle match." He coughed again, and the light started to fade from his eyes. "You'll be a shoo-in for su-" The last of what he was trying to say faded into nothing as his breath left him for the last time.

The very embodiment of his hopes and dreams lay dead before him, and yet the determination in his eyes was never stronger.

* * *

"I miss them." Remi mumbled.

Brought back from his musings, Max looked down at his sister as she clutched onto his shirt.

He wasn't sure who exactly she was talking about, but he guessed that it didn't really matter. "Me too, sis."

Max focused on the long, winding dirt path ahead of them. The path north cut through rolling hills of lush, low to the ground greenery and beautiful fields of flowers. Towering cliff faces reached into the sky off to the west, and to the east, a lush and full forest with towering trees sprawled towards the ocean. Daylight burst over the horizon in an aurora of orange and red, blasting the few clouds overhead with a pinkish-purple tint. The morning light breaking up the night sky that loomed behind them as he walked, where it would stay in perpetuity, as their destination was known for. The light would never change here, signifying the eternal battle of Day versus Night. Light versus Dark.

Max couldn't help compare his home, Twilight Town, with the scene before him. Both gave the same impression: where the light never changed; however, the fundamental difference was that twilight took place just as the day was overrun by night, and daybreak was when night was overrun by day.

No matter how gorgeous the view, the image of Twilight Town fading into the night was purely terrifying. Shadows that swallowed the world had descended upon his home; so the image of daybreak - the total opposite in that the light fights back - was heartwarming, and sparked a sense of _hope_ that he and his sister had been lacking for weeks now.

So he made his way forward on the path. The flowers, grass, and bushes, swaying in the summer breeze beside him.

This beautiful scenery was juxtaposed with the sight of the broken siblings ambling their way forward. Dried blood, dirt and grime marring their skin and clothes. The last vestiges of hope clinging to tear-stained faces.

Daybreak Town was finally within reach.

* * *

 **A/N**

Alrighty, that's a wrap.

First off, I apologize if there are any aspects of a first-person view in this story. I am trying to write it in third-person, however I am used to writing in first-person. So, I'm sorry if that leaks through. I don't have a Beta.

Also I hit some internet troubles while I was doing some last minute editing - so all of it was lost and I'm a lazy shit so I didn't re-edit it.

To explain Twilight Town: These places actually existed in the Age of Fairytales, they were all just part of one big world before bits and pieces were swallowed by the Darkness, then the Dandelions went and brought some of them back after the Keyblade War. This is explained in _KHX Back Cover_. Really, I suggest you watch that movie if you haven't already. This story is based around a lot of the information in there (With my own inferences, and artistic take).

To reiterate, this is a darker take on the Kingdom Hearts Universe. We haven't really seen it yet, but there _will_ be nice parts.

I am doing my best to keep this story friendly to canon; however, I am still human. Mistakes will happen.

Yes, I know that's _exactly what a robot would say._ Shut up.

There is a difference between **constructive criticism,** and **insulting someone.** If you do not know the difference between the two, please _do not_ leave a review.

If you **do** know the difference, and insist on shoving insults up my ass, please note that you are an utter twat, and that I wish I could reach through our computers to bitch-slap you into space.

 **To all others:** You are beautiful people. Please review.


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